Scales of Emerald
by Otter4242
Summary: After the night Harry's X-Gene activates, Harry has to learn how to deal with both the blessings and curse of being a mutant. Not knowing what to do, Harry falls into a state of decline. That is, of course, until Bruce Banner finds him one day. Can Bruce and Prof. Xavier help Harry before he falls completely into the darkness? Marvel Universe, Undecided Pairings
1. Chapter 1

**Summary****:**** After the night Harry's X-Gene activates, Harry has to learn how to deal with both the blessings and curse of being a mutant. Not knowing what to do, Harry falls into a state of decline. That is, of course, until Bruce Banner finds him one day. Can Bruce and Prof. Xavier help Harry before he falls completely into the darkness? **

**Author's Note****: Still undecided about the pairings, although if any of you have ideas just put it in the review box! ^.^ First Harry Potter/Avenger's story. The first chapter may be a bit slow, but it will pick up pace next chapter. I just had to get all the introductions done. **

**WARNING! ABUSE ELEMENTS, MARVEL UNIVERSE AND DEPRESSION. **

* * *

A five-year old boy laid out in the middle of the garden, enjoying the warmth from the sun above him. His bright emerald green eyes watched as the light danced across his milky white skin. The boy had always been pale for his age, to the point where he even looked sickly. He hadn't ever been bothered by the trait, but his aunt had added it to his list of _freakishness_.

The boy sighed at the thought of his aunt. He had been tending her garden for hours and was completely tired. The weeds he had been ordered to pull were stronger than he originally thought, and were extremely hard to uproot. His short stubby arms burned from the amount of force he subjected himself through, and his eyes drooped tiredly as he fought to stay awake. Although, he told himself he should be used to the work load by now.

Two weeks ago was Harry Potter's fifth birthday, and as soon as the day rolled around Petunia said he was finally old enough to 'earn' his keep. The next hour he received a long list of work that his uncle had made, and was now in charge of a range of things. Petunia reluctantly took the day to show him how to do his chores. The woman shrieked at him or roughly slapped the back of his head each time he messed up, and Harry soon learned to get the chores right the first time he did them. There was no room for mistakes, not when he had Aunt Petunia hovering behind him, watching Harry's every move. So far Harry had learned how to cook breakfast, clean the kitchen, vacuum the carpet, do the dishes, clean Dudley's room, and tend to the garden, which he had just finished.

The boy sighed as he snuggled deeper into the warm grass. Maybe if he took a nap for a few minutes his caretakers wouldn't notice. Even if they did at least he would get a few minutes of sleep, and sleep was something Harry hadn't gotten lately. His cupboard was too cold to sleep at midnight, and no matter how many blankets or clothes he piled on himself he still stayed dead cold all night long. The only nights Harry would get any sleep was when Uncle Vernon left the heat on. Then Harry would curl around the ventilation vent letting the warm air wash all over him.

Harry couldn't explain why he was so cold all the time. Petunia said it was because he was a freak, but Harry didn't think that was the reason. Harry thought he might be cold blooded like he read from the books he stole from Dudley's room, but only lizards, snakes and reptiles like that were cold-blooded. At least that's what the books said, and Harry was a human so he couldn't be cold-blooded, right? Though, it would explain why he liked basking in the sun so much.

The boy sighed in discomfort as a small wispy cloud blocked the sun from view, casting a light shadow over the Earth's surface. He opened his eyes and sat up with his hands behind his back. His fingers dug into the cool grass as he waited patiently for the cloud to move and the sun to come back out. After all, napping was no fun when it was cold. Suddenly he heard the back door open and a small gasp. He sucked in a breath knowing what was about to happen.

He had been caught.

Harry turned around and looked at his aunt. Aunt Petunia didn't turn red in the face like her husband when she was mad. No, instead her ears turned a light pink as she gave the boy a deathly glare that turned his insides cold. He inwardly braced himself for her high pitch voice to start shrieking, but she didn't. Harry watched as she moved across the yard in seconds with short brisk paces. To anyone else she would seem calm, but Harry knew better than that. It was when she was calm like this that she was the most livid. The woman looked at him then over at the weeds he had placed in a garbage bag like she had told him to. Her face looked normal, but then he saw her eyebrows furrow. She took a look around making sure nobody was around. All of their neighbors were mostly out for summer holidays, and Harry knew that he wouldn't be getting off easy tonight.

"Freak!" She said in a harsh whisper as she roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him up from his sitting position. "Don't you know the difference between flowers and weeds?!" Her voice rose a few pitches hurting Harry's ears.

Harry's eyes looked over to the weeds he had pulled. He thought they looked like weeds at least. Most were a pasty green and didn't have flower petals like the pretty flowers he saw in his kindergarten classroom did. How was he supposed to know those were flowers? Maybe Petunia was just a terrible gardener? Although he wouldn't say that out loud. Not if he didn't want to get punished when Vernon came home. However, he had a feeling he would be getting punished anyways.

"Unreliable, ungrateful, stupid brat!" Petunia said dragging him towards the open back door. He looked back longingly at the cloud covered sun. The heat was nice while it lasted. He sucked in a breath as Petunia shoved him into the doorway, making him fall onto his knees almost hitting his head on the counter next to him. Petunia slammed the door shut, cutting them off from the outside world. The woman continued to grab the boy and drag him to his cupboard. She threw the light boy in and shut the door, locking it from the outside.

Harry didn't know what to do as his aunt left him in the cupboard all day long. He was cold, but he was more importantly hungry. He had missed four meals now, and his stomach rumbled in discomfort. The boy ignored the pain of an empty stomach though and curled next to the vent as warm air passed through it. At least his aunt had the heat on. With the heat next to him, he could almost forget about the pain that was racking through his stomach. The boy scolded himself though. He should be used to not getting fed by now.

He laid on his bed and looked at the horse figurine he had snitched from Dudley's second bedroom. The boy began to pretend it would somehow turn into a life-size horse and take him far away from this placed. It would take him to a place full of people like him, and a place he would be _loved_.

He listened to Dudley walk down the steps, jumping on a certain step that caused dust to fall into his eyes. He coughed as his eyes happened to tear up from the dust. Dudley laughed hearing him cough from outside the door and went towards the kitchen for what appeared to be dinner. Harry smelt spices travel through the air and inwardly groaned.

Smells always seemed to taunt him. He always had an exceptional nose sometimes even smelling things from meters away. He also realized that every person had a specific smell. Aunt Petunia smelled like dirt and flowers, Vernon smelled like oil and rust, and Dudley smelled like bacon. Sometimes he would even be able to smell a person from across the house and recognize who the smell belonged to.

Harry once admitted about his sense of smell one day to Dudley, but when the boy told his father Harry was locked in his cupboard for two straight days. Not that, that could happen with him attending kindergarten class now. People would get suspicious if he was gone for too long, and if was one thing the Durselys liked it was a perfect reputation.

Harry snuggled into his semi-warm bed and tried to fall asleep only to wake up thirty minutes later to the front door opening with a bang. He heard the slow, clumsy steps of his uncle as he maneuvered throughout the hallways. However, today Uncle Vernon's steps were even sloppier than usual and Harry smelled something sharp hit his nose. The boy grabbed his nose to keep it from smelling the putrid smell. However breathing through his mouth made the smell even stronger.

"Vernon have you been drinking again?" Petunia asked standing in the hallway as she helped her husband take off his coat and hang it in the hallway. Harry heard the two move together towards the kitchen and Harry pressed his ear to the door. What was wrong with drinking? Dudley drank water every day and Petunia never sounded so concerned like that. Harry thought it was normal for people to drink. Then the putrid smell he smelled earlier hit his nose again. Maybe whatever smelled so bad was the reason Petunia was worried. Harry felt a sharp pang in his heart. He had never heard someone sound worried like that about him, and Harry felt jealousy run through his veins. Why did his aunt never address him that way?

"Bad duay at wurk." Vernon slurred as he stumbled through the hallway/kitchen door. Harry thought he heard Dudley say something, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't hear very well through his door. He heard the chair scratch against the floor as his uncle sat down at the table with Dudley.

"What happened at work that made you drink?" Petunia asked as she scooped up food and placed it onto plates. Harry didn't know what it was, but it smelled heavenly to his rumbling stomach.

"McDonald truied to get muh fiireed." Vernon grumbled as he drunk something that smelled faintly like coffee. "Messed up tha whule assembly line."

"The McDonalds? The ones that live two streets down? I never liked them. They always acted so high and might because their daughter was a genius. Ha, like that could ever improve their social reputation!" Petunia sneered as she sat down at the table with her family. "Their daughter acted like a spoiled brat anyways. She doesn't even compare to Duddykins! I heard Mrs. McDonald even cheated on her husband with her daughter's teacher. I always knew she was that type. I've known it since high school."

"Yeah? Well tha maan's going to get it when I go bac tummarah." Vernon said getting up from the table and stumbled over to the fridge.

"You sure you want to go in tomorrow? You're probably going to have a hangover in the morning." Petunia said sipping something Harry guessed was tea.

"Yer, I wanna. Gotta show hem who's boss!" Vernon said angrily as he slammed the fridge door shut after looking inside it. "Dun't want them to think they can run all ova meh."

"Okay then, I'm probably going to mend my garden tomorrow. Don't want the brat to be touching it again." Aunt Petunia said with a hiss.

"Wut the brat do now?" Vernon asked staggering over to his wife.

"Pulled out half of my flower bed, he did. Nasty little thing, I'll make sure he stays in the cupboard until he learns his lesson this time." Petunia said finishing her tea and putting it in the sink.

"I'll do betta than that." Vernon mumbled as he exited the kitchen in a hurried wobble. Petunia didn't miss the angry face on her husband's face when he left towards the cupboard, and she couldn't help but feel uneasy about what was about to happen. Then the woman shrugged her shoulders.

The freak deserved it anyways.

* * *

Harry sucked in a breath as he felt his ribs crack under the pressure of the man's fist. This was the first time in Harry's life that he truly just wanted to go and die. Why was Vernon doing this to him? He didn't know. He could only shake in fright as the man backhanded him across the face. Harry was thrown to his side under the force of the blow and felt his cheek numb in pain. The five year old did his best not to cry or groan. He didn't want his attacker to see any weakness.

The boy curled into a small boy as his attacker started to kick him while he was down. A shout erupted from his throat as the man had kicked hard into his eye. Pain exploded through his head as he covered his bleeding eye with his tiny hands. He couldn't take it anymore. The pain was too much. Cries escaped from him and his body shook as he sobbed.

Vernon stopped his assault as the boy shakenly stood to his feet. The older man huffed and gave the boy one last backhand to his face before he left towards the master bedroom. The boy held his cheek that had just been backhanded and his lone eye widened in shock. The backhand he had just received didn't hurt like the boy had been expecting.

His fingers brushed his cheek and he gasped when he felt something hard on his cheek. Then Petunia came in and ushered him towards the cupboard, obviously not wanting him to bloody up the hallway. But, just as he was being forced into the cupboard he saw his reflection in the mirror in the hallway. His eye was black and bleeding at the edges, and bruises littered his form. But that wasn't what shocked the boy the most. On his cheek where he had been slapped were green scales_._

As he was locked in his cupboard, his fingers went back towards his cheek, and he felt the scales slowly disappear back into his skin.

What-what just happened?

He didn't have any time to ponder what was going though as pain erupted throughout his body once more. But this time it was different, a flame was lit inside of him, consuming his entire being. The boy felt like his whole body was re-arranging itself. Every cell burned and his mind screamed in agony. His eye pulsed and throbbed under the pain and Harry felt as if he was finally dying.

The boy had to bite back his screams. If Petunia or Vernon heard him, he might get punished again, and he would do anything to never get punished like that again. So he put his arm over his mouth as pain took over his body. Tears streamed down the boy's face and he shut his eyes, and the blackness slowly overcame him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary****:** **After the night Harry's X-Gene activates, Harry has to learn how to deal with both the blessings and curse of being a mutant. Not knowing what to do, Harry falls into a state of decline. That is, of course, until Bruce Banner finds him one day. Can Bruce and Prof. Xavier help Harry before he falls completely into the darkness?**

**Author's**** Note:**** Thanks for the reviews! They motivate me! :D **

**In reply to **tylerbamafan34 **I probably won't do Harry/Jean in this, because I'm grouping him in towards the younger X-men's age, but at the same time I want to stay unique. I've already thought about and discarded Harry/Rogue. But, I'm speculating on either Harry/Cat (ShadowCat, Ariel, Whatever she calls herself! XD) She doesn't play too big a part in the first and second movie, but I frankly love her. But I'm still thinking about it. **

!**By the way everyone! I sort of wrote this while running a** HIGH fever**. So there's probably a hundred mistakes in it. I'll look back over it and edit it after I feel better. (I just really wanted to post it.)**

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR MARVEL**

**WARNINGS: ABUSIVE ELEMENTS, MARVEL UNIVERSE AND DEPRESSION**

* * *

After that night Harry Potter's life was never the same. The next morning when the boy woke up, something had _snapped_ inside of him. A darkness he didn't know was there had somehow swallowed his heart whole. The coldness consumed him, leaving every inch of his body without feeling or emotion. He was void from all sentiment, leaving only a hollow shell of the boy he once was. He didn't care about anything, or anybody and he relished in the emptiness. The darkness was a whole lot more comforting than the light. With nobody to care for, Harry could do whatever he wanted. He didn't care about the consequences. The pain was only a reminder that he was alive. And after that night he wouldn't ever let anybody in again. Giving people chances, letting people in, it only hurt.

It made Harry's life so much easier just to live emotionless. True, sometimes he missed the feelings he once had, but then that voice would speak in the back of his mind. '_It isn't worth it, feelings only hurt you. This is the only way to protect yourself.' _And Harry trusted that voice a hundred percent. It never patronized him, and only gave him advice on how to protect himself. It encouraged him to dive deeper into the newfound darkness, and Harry happily complied. This new voice was a part of him, albeit a darker part of him, but it was still a part of him.

It was Harry's 'animalistic' side. It was the side of him that was made out of pure instinct, and it protected him. The voice Harry now held had saved his life a numerous amount of times when Vernon had decided to beat him or when bullies decided to make his life a living hell, and Harry now wondered how he ever lived his previous life without it. He wondered many times if he was truly going insane. After all, it wasn't a healthy sign when you started hearing voices inside your head. But, Harry decided not to contemplate about it too much. So far it had done only good, and Harry just guessed it was a side effect to his new _changes_.

The voice was only a small matter in the scheme of things though, because in the end the voice wasn't the only thing that had appeared after that horrendous night.

Harry didn't know what it was, or why it had happened, but that night his whole body had _changed_. At first he felt different, cleaner, and sort of _lighter_ than he had before. Like some big weight had just been lifted off his chest. He was also shocked to find that everything was two times _colder_ than it usually was. His kindergarten teacher almost feinted from shock when she touched the boy's skin.

It was cold, _deadly _cold. Now Harry had found it harder to even be in the house without the heat on. Everything was like ice. The only time he was ever content was when he was laying outside under the hot sun. It took him at least thirty minutes of sunbathing until he was finally warm. Harry knew that this severe reaction to the coldness was only a side-effect to the major change he had experienced.

The boy didn't remember when the first transformation was, but he remembered the worst one. The first near-transformation he had was when he had been badly beaten by Vernon and left for dead in an abandoned alley in the city. Scales erupted from his body with every blow his Uncle had produced. The scales acted like a layer of armor, saving the boy from the impact of the man's fist.

His eyes transformed into a yellow snake-like eyes with a small slit for a pupil. His newly enhanced eyes drained color away from the world, but many other features made up for the lack of color. His perfect eyesight helped him predict what blow was coming next, and he could even see small heat signatures when he concentrated hard enough. Also, the boy's sense of smell enhanced greatly, allowing him to smell certain individuals far away. He was able to recognize people's distinct scents and be able to track them. However, with these new senses his hearing never did get any better; in fact, Harry would have even guessed that it had gotten worse.

The transformation itself spread throughout his body, except for patches on his head, and few patches here and there. The scales on his arms were pointy, and were sharp enough to cut. The scales on his face however were smoother, but still had its uses as a defense mechanism. Vernon had quickly realized that Harry's new changes wouldn't allow the boy to get hurt. So the next thing he did was kick him one last time in the gut and left him there, defenseless against the elements.

The boy's injuries didn't take long to heal though, and despite his instincts telling him to run as far as he could, he returned to Privet Drive. The shock on Vernon's face was evident as he believed the boy to be dead. However, the boy only wore a smug grin as he passed the older man and into the kitchen, where he promptly made himself a sandwich (much to Petunia's dismay.) Ever since the night he had changed injuries often healed themselves, and in Harry's life that was something that was helpful.

The injuries he received the night he had changed had taken longer to heal, the exception being his left eye which Vernon kicked. It had _never_ healed. The internal damage the kick had done to the organ made the boy blind in that eye. Not even his enhanced sight helped it, so the boy mostly wore an eye patch over it.

It still disgusted him sometimes when he stepped out of the shower and had to look at his now deformed eye socket. And he had to live with the knowledge that he would never be able to see out of it again. Although, he had to remind himself that he had gotten off lucky. He could have died that night, and if it wasn't for his new mutation he most of certainty would have. Besides, he had gotten used to living with only one eye, and he felt like it hadn't messed up his ability to defend himself, so why bother with it?

The choice to return to Privet Drive when Vernon had left him practically dead in the alleyway still haunted Harry to the day. But where else would he go? Sure, he could hunt, but there wasn't many forests near Surrey, and who would help a kid runaway. He couldn't get a job, or find a place to stay, so going back to Privet Drive made the most sense, although Harry regretted the decision deeply. Sometimes the boy thought it would have been better to die that night. It had been the first-time he nearly transformed, _yes_, but it was also the last time Harry could pretend to ever be normal.

He was technically now a monster, a half-breed, a _freak_. Nobody else he knew could grow scales at will. So now Harry finally realized why his so-called "family" hated him so much. He really was a _freak_. His scales were sharp enough to hurt people, the Dursley's had a right to be afraid of him. If he wanted to he could slit their throats with his bare hands, but even thought that thought had crossed his mind he never acted upon it. Even after all the things they put him through Harry never could finally hurt them.

So even though that night he almost completely transformed, it was also the night Harry started to hate himself for what he was.

That night Vernon almost killed him, he stopped himself from transforming all the way for a reason. The voice inside of him wanted to hurt Vernon for hurting Harry. But before Harry's animalistic side kicked in, the boy stopped the transformation before the voice inside of him did any _real_ damage.

And as much as he trusted that voice inside of his head he never wanted to give into it completely. Harry didn't know why though. It wasn't as if he hadn't already completely surrendered himself to the darkness. The boy guessed that deep, deep down inside of his heart there was a small part of him that still wanted that hope, that _innocence_ he used to have. But, Harry still tried his best to smash that part of him. Hope blinded people from reality. Why should he have hope, when there was nothing to hope for?

This terrible life was cruel, but it was the only life Harry had. There was no other alternative, no saving grace, that could ever hope to save his soul. He was lost on this broken road of his, and he knew there was probably no recovering from it. Sure, a few people had tried. Teachers, Mrs. Figg, the whole lot of them, but they were just doing it out of kind heartedness. No one really cared about him. So why should he care about them? Nobody understood what it was like to be him. So Harry simply ignored them all. If they were in his place, maybe, _maybe_ he could listen to their words. But, they weren't like him. So he would continue to walk his dark and tragic ways until he found something worth living for. If there was something worth living for.

Harry sighed as he walked down the sidewalk. If there was some point to life, he couldn't find it. The boy continued walking, lost in his thoughts, until his instincts jumped up telling him to run. His lone eye looked up as a certain scent drifted towards his nose.

_Dudley_.

The seven-year old boy cursed under his breath as the scent of his tormentor and a few of his friends washed over him. Dudley had been a particular darkness in his life. Since the boy had seen his father beat Harry, he thought it was okay to do the same thing as well. But unlike Vernon, Dudley didn't wait until he got home.

Dudley had invented the game 'Harry-Hunting' or sometimes called 'Lizard-Hunting' as the boy had seen Harry transform once. None of the other boys had known the reason why. (Dudley had enough sense to keep quiet about Harry's powers.) But, sadly enough the others had taken up calling the boy, "Lizard-Freak." It was a name that was a mixture between Vernon's favorite insult, "Lizard-Brat," and Petunia's favorite insult, "Freak."

Harry looked up once more and realized by then it was too late to run as the three boys came into sight. The boy mentally scolded himself in his head. He thought if he took the route from the park to his house the older boy wouldn't have found him. He was wrong.

Dudley looked smug as he walked up to Harry. The black-haired boy only held his head up high though as the bully continued to stare at him. _Don't show weakness, _it was rule number one. Dudley grinned as he realized it was going to be a challenge to capture the boy today and snapped his fingers, and Harry took that as a cue to run. The three automatically began chasing him out of the park and into the streets. Dudley was surprisingly fast, and Harry wondered how he managed to run as fast on his short, chubby legs. His two friends however, were slower than the two and quickly became smaller in the distance. Harry saw a block up ahead and turned towards the only exit, the brick alleyway next to him.

Harry once again cursed under his breath as he realized the alleyway was a dead end. He turned around as he saw Dudley blocking the only exit to the brick alley. The older boy was huffing loudly and a small strand of sweat slid down his face. Harry quickly came up with scenarios inside of his head about how this could work out. Even though Harry had a great defense, he was still very weak when it came to strength. The seven-year old only guessed it was because of malnourishment, but he never really had any evidence for the theory. This was a huge disadvantage, as Dudley had enormous amounts of strength, and Harry had reckoned if the boy applied himself he might have been a great martial arts fighter.

Dudley moved closer to Harry as the boy backed away steadily, until his back hit the brick wall at the end of the alley. Dudley smiled evilly as he pulled his fist back and tried to ram it into the boy's stomach. However, the boy managed to dodge and seeing an opportunity, tried to run past the bully. This action didn't work out though, as Dudley's hand shot out and grabbed the back of Harry's shirt collar. The bully pulled Harry back and Harry slammed his back against the brick wall once more. Scales erupted on his back, successfully blocking out the pain. This didn't seem to discourage Dudley though as the boy managed to continue punching the boy everywhere that wasn't covered, and even some parts that were.

The bully made sure to especially pay attention not to touch Harry's arms though, as he had been cut by the scales on an earlier misadventure. The gut, shoulders, legs, skull, spine, Dudley abused anything he could get his hands or feet on. Harry desperately tried to attack him back, but the older boy just laughed as his punches did nothing to faze him. Finally, Harry gave up hope finally and curled up in a ball as his arms protected his head and vital organs. Harry had begun to fade out into the blackness at the climax of the bully's attacks.

Was he really going to die by Dudley's hand?

_That was a depressing thought. _

Suddenly as the boy began to lose all hope, a voice shouted out towards them from the end of the alleyway.

A shadow emerged from the end of the alleyway and made its way towards Harry and Dudley. Harry's eye were blurred from the tears he had been holding back, so he couldn't particularly see the man perfectly. Harry didn't like the fact that he couldn't see, so he changed his eyes towards their snake-like counterparts. Suddenly the tears dried from Harry's eyes and the seven-year old gazed at the man walking towards them. Harry's left eye was still covered with the eye patch so he had to solely use his right eye.

Suddenly the man started to say something to Dudley, and by the tone of his voice Harry could tell it wasn't good. Harry tried to strain to hear them, but a ringing sound was still going off in his ears. Harry cursed mentally as he wondered why he had to be given such bad hearing.

Harry didn't quite understand what the man and Dudley were saying, but it ended up with the boy running as fast as he could out of the alleyway. Whatever the man said, Harry could tell it frightened the daylights out of Dudley, but that didn't mean this man was safe. If anything his voice was yelling at him, _dangerous-warning-danger-danger-danger. _

The seven-year old uncurled himself from his ball formation, and looked up towards his supposed savior. And as his emerald green eyes instantly met the man's calm brown ones, one thought kept running through his head:

_This man could still be an enemy._

* * *

Bruce Banner didn't know why he had let Tony convince him to go to the new science convention in England. The whole thing was a joke. Most of the scientists weren't even qualified for their fields of study, and Bruce was tired of explaining the same theories over and over again. At the end of the night, Bruce found himself drinking the stress away at a pub a few blocks down from his hotel. He kept telling himself to stop, but in the end he still downed a bottle or two of whiskey. Bruce knew that drinking was dangerous, especially when there was a chance of releasing the other guy, and Bruce felt that England wouldn't be all too happy with a green ranging monster roaming the streets.

Although, the second day of the convention wasn't as bad as the first. But that was due to the two scientists he met that could actually compete on his level.

Reed Richards was a complete genius, and even Bruce had a hard time keeping up with the guy. Reed had a comprehensive understanding of astronomical physics, engineering and biochemistry. Honestly, there didn't seem to be a degree that the man didn't have. But after the encounter Reed left with more knowledge on gamma radiation and cellular physics, and Bruce's brain had been stuffed pack with knowledge of time-space travel and spectral analysis.

The second man that Bruce had met surprised Bruce to say the least. Bruce knew by now one shouldn't judge a book by its cover. (He could turn into a green monster for goodness sake!) But, after Bruce met Charles Xavier, it was so easy to categorize him into the 'friendly old-man' stereotype. However, after a few minutes of talking to the older man he could tell there was more to Charles Xavier than what meets the eye. Yes, he was friendly and peaceful, but there was something behind the man's stare that screamed _dangerous_! Yet at the same time Bruce felt like he could trust the man for some reason. And Bruce knew to trust his instincts.

Professor Xavier was a genius. There was no mistaking that. Besides Reed he was the only one who could keep up with Bruce's musings, and Bruce was extremely thankful for someone else to talk to. However, unlike Reed it wasn't a small meeting and then the parting of ways. Once Bruce had talked to Xavier he stayed by the older man's side for the duration of the day. He didn't realize how fast the time was flying. One conversation led to another, and then another and soon it was almost time to leave the convention and head back to the hotel. At the end of the day though, when it was time to leave, Charles gave Bruce his address in New York in case he ever wanted to come see his work in real life. And, since the address wasn't too far from the tower, Bruce promised he would swing by sometime.

Thoughts about the day seemed to fill up Bruce's thoughts as he walked back to his hotel. The physicist could have called a cab, but he enjoyed walking in the night air. The coolness against his skin helped him think. There was no way he could make it through another day at the convention. Maybe he could just call Tony and tell him something came up.

But then again, Bruce would need an excuse, and Bruce had always been a terrible liar. So that plan was out. Maybe he could call in sick and then just stay at his hotel for the next few days. But then somebody might come looking for him, and he couldn't think he could fake being sick. Plus the Hulk didn't allow him to get sick very easy, and his immune system was top notch. The most important question was why did he even care what people thought? Sure, Tony had suggested it, but did he really need to stay here this badly?

Bruce didn't even know why he couldn't just tell Tony it was stupid and then fly back to America. Maybe he didn't want to waste the money Tony had spent setting him up here, but Bruce could always pay him back. It was like some kind of instinct told him he needed to stay here. He couldn't imagine a single reason why, but he just felt it in his gut. So, by the time Bruce reached his hotel and flopped on his bed he came up with the conclusion he would stay for the next few days.

Even though he was probably going to have a serious migraine after this.

* * *

Bruce was running late.

His alarm clock didn't wake him up, he had to search through his suitcases for a decent suit to wear (it seemed he forgot to pack more,) and the shower had quit running water halfway through. All in all, today was starting off as a pretty sucky day. Now, Bruce rushed down the sidewalk. He was going to call a cab this morning, but guess what? He had forgotten his wallet in the hotel room. At least he still had his debit card, but he wasn't sure if cabs took debit or not. So here he was, striding down the sidewalk when he was pretty sure he had to give a lecture in about an hour. Ah well, he didn't particularly like that lecture anyway.

Bruce was pretty sure this day couldn't get any worse.

That was until he heard someone getting beat up in the sidewalk next to him. He just had to go and jinx himself, didn't he? Bruce stopped and wondered what was happening. As he walked into the small alleyway he could tell this wasn't a usual mugging. His brown eyes looked at the boys guarding the entrance. They couldn't be past elementary school. So why were they acting like some type of punk gangsters that run a drug cartel? His eyes looked down further and saw a bigger boy beating up what seemed to be a five-year old.

Bruce felt his blood run cold at the sight. Hadn't that been him, a long, long time ago? Long before he became the Hulk Bruce always had anti-social tendencies. His father had been completely obsessed with his research and a terrible drunk. During that time Bruce's mother had been Bruce's only light in the world, his cornerstone. Memories flashed across Bruce's mind, too fast for him to stop him. His dad's abusive nights, his mother being killed by his father's hand, the bullying at school, everything quickly appeared in his consciousness then left just as fast as it came.

Bruce's eyes flashed green and he swore he saw red around the edges of his vision. How many times did he get kicked down at school by bullies? How many times did he come home sporting bruises from those bigger than him? How many times did Bruce think of his anger and rage that had built up from the traumatic experiences? How many times-

_No_, Bruce thought cutting off the negative stream of memories. Anger and rage only fueled the only guy, and the last thing he needed was for him to become the Hulk in front of little children. These children weren't quite as old as Bruce's tormentors; they still had time to change. However slight the chance was, these boys could still be innocent, and who was Bruce to condemn them from one vile act? The man shook his head. He wasn't a monster, no matter how much he wanted to teach these boys a lesson. Besides, the boy at the end of the alleyway needed his help and teaching these brutes would only take away time from helping him.

"Don't you have something better to do?" He asked the two boys at the entrance. The two boy's eyes grew wide seeing the adult before him and they took off running into the streets. Bruce didn't take anytime quickly striding into the alleyway. The boy in front of him seemed to resemble a pig, but Bruce held his tongue. He didn't want to mentally scar the boy. He just needed him out of the way so he could tend to the boy being beaten on.

"Look, I've had a long day. So, why don't you go home, so I can take care of the unfortunate soul you've decided to beat up?" Bruce asked pinching the bridge of his nose.

_Breath in, breath out, it all be okay Banner._

The large boy looked up and Bruce noticed the malice swimming in the boy's eyes. By _god_, the boy was enjoying this! The boy smirked at Bruce obviously not wanting to leave, but Bruce had seen enough and felt his anger rising up inside his chest. If this kid didn't run away soon, he might not have legs to run away with.

"Skive off, me and my _cousin_ here and just having a little chat." He sneered at the word cousin, and Bruce could have sworn he heard a small whimper coming from the child. Bruce felt the other guy rise up, obviously wanting to show the boy a lesson, but he stopped him. Bruce was almost amazed at his self-control now days.

"Well, he doesn't look like he's enjoying himself. So why don't you go home before it gets dark?" Bruce honestly hoped that the boy would take his warning, but the pig-like boy did no such thing.

"Make me," He said the smirk still planted on his face. And finally something in Bruce _snapped_. Maybe it was how this scenario was so familiar to him, or maybe it was this stupid boy taking on a full-fledged adult, or perhaps it was a mix of the two. Either way, Bruce's eyes turned green and a smug smile appeared on his face.

"That can be arranged." He said his eyes still a shade of emerald green. The boy gasped before looking at him then down to the curled up boy.

"You're one of his kind!" The boy yelled as he took off running. Bruce raised an eyebrow. His kind, what did that mean? "FREAK! MONSTER!" The boy screamed running out into the streets. Bruce rolled his eyes and the anger melted away from him. Right now he had a wounded boy to take care of, and he didn't have time to pay attention to the coward.

Bruce turned his attention to the boy in front of him, and crouched down to analyze him better. The boy was severely thin for his age, and the physicist could estimate that the boy was probably around five or six. He was too short to be any older than that. Bruce could see a series of ribs from the part of the boy's shirt that had rode up his body, and Bruce paled at the sight. He knew abuse when he saw it. You didn't need a Master's Education to figure that out. The boy probably had several injuries and a really bad case of malnourishment. What had the boy been through?

The boy unfurled himself from his ball position and Bruce held his breath. The man had been too focused on the boy's injuries he hadn't even realized the scales that were covering the boy's body, and Bruce knew that the boy had probably undergone a mutation. Technically, Bruce himself was a mutant, as the radiation from the gamma rays changed his molecular structure. Although, Bruce knew about the many mutants that ran across the world this was his first time meeting one, (Or at least the only one that had exposed themselves to him.) The scales ran up and down the boy's body, probably protecting him from most of the blows, and the boy's lone eye was yellow with a slit pupil. Bruce had half a thought to ask why he wore an eye patch, but thought against it.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked reaching out to touch the boy's shoulder, but the boy shrank back and hissed at him. If Bruce had been anybody else he would have thought the boy to be more animalistic than intellect. But, Bruce knew better.

He saw past the exterior creature and saw the poor beaten boy within. The boy wasn't at fault, he was just falling back on his primal instincts to protect him.

Bruce closed his eyes as he wondered what to do next, but the boy in front of him didn't really give him time to think. His lone eye analyzed his every move. If Banner didn't act fast the boy would probably dart away, and then how could Bruce help him?

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a doctor." Bruce said holding up his hands in a sign of peace. Then he gestured to what he was wearing. "Well, I don't look like a doctor, but that's what I get for signing up to give lectures at a convention."

The boy seemed to watch his movements, and his reptilian like eyes seemed to change. The yellow morphed into an emerald green, but the slit pupil still stayed (even though it was smaller than before.) Bruce felt his blood run cold as the boy's green eyes analyzed him.

Those eyes didn't belong to a child. He had only seen those types of eyes in war veterans before. How in the world did a five to six year old get those kind of eyes? They were emotionless and seemed to judge Bruce's every move with caution.

Anger rushed up inside Bruce's heart and he had an urge to go and wipe out whoever did this to the boy, but he couldn't do that now. Right now the boy needed medical help. Although, Bruce had no idea how he was going to do that when the boy seemed so distrusting. Plus Bruce doubted from how the boy looked that he had even been to a hospital before.

"What's your name?" He asked as the boy stared at him coldly. "I'm Bruce, Bruce Banner. And you don't need to worry about being different around me. I'm like you. I can change too." He said slowly and calculatingly. However, the boy seemed to slightly ease at his words. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

. "So umm…I'm just going to have to call you 'kid' if you don't give me your name, and I have a feeling you wouldn't like that." Bruce said trying to joke a bit with the boy. The boy however didn't show any sign of emotion as he looked at him. The boy seemed to watch Bruce like he was weighing whether or not to trust him. The boy's eyes darted from Bruce's own to the end of the alleyway, probably making escape routes in case everything went wrong.

Bruce had to keep himself from feeling hurt that the boy still didn't trust him. But Bruce knew with some abuse patients it took months, even years before the person began to trust again. Bruce would know, he had been there before. No, Bruce knew he would have to be patient for this to work out. Good thing patience was one of his strong points.

"Harry."

The voice was small and if Bruce hadn't been paying attention he probably would have missed it. The boy's eyes glanced down like he had just told some big secret, and Bruce thought carefully about his next move. This conversation was more like a game of chess than anything else. One move could result in a total disaster, and Bruce had to plan his strategy out carefully or he could lose everything. And for a social disaster like Bruce, saying the right thing would be extremely difficult.

So far the man had been going on pure instinct, but he doubted that he was going to continue to keep getting lucky. He needed a plan, and fast.

"Harry," Bruce said trying out the name. "It's a nice name."

_It's a nice name? That's honestly the best you could come up with? _His thoughts scolded himself as he tried to figure out how to win this conversation.

"Harry, I know what you've been through is tough, but we need to get those wounds checked out." Bruce said calmly as he knelt in front of the boy. Harry's eyes widened at the thought of being examined and quickly scooted back some, letting out a small hiss. Bruce mentally banged his head against an imaginary wall. How can he be so stupid? He was being way to blunt!

"Whoa there little dude, how about we…umm…" He trailed off, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't good with words and this was getting more difficult by the second. The boy watched his moves, and his eyes seemed to ease a little bit. "Look, I'm not going to force you to see anyone you don't want to. Heck, I won't even make you go to the hospital, but we need to clean these wounds before they get infected."

Harry looked at him skeptically. How was he going to show this kid he was speaking the truth? His mind raced with a thousand scenarios, but suddenly the other guy provided the answer for him.

_Just show him. _

Bruce halted for a second. It had been years since the other guy simply talked to him without trying to get out. Why was there such a sudden change? What was it about this boy that made the both of them so protective? Bruce stopped thinking as Harry cringed in front of him. He didn't have time to contemplate about the Hulk. But what had the Hulk meant when he said to just show him? Then Bruce mentally sighed at his stupidity.

Of course! Actions spoke louder than words, and if Bruce showed him he was safe, then the boy would know it was true.

"I won't make you come with me if you don't want me to. But, even if your cuts heal there's still a chance of infection. I won't touch you. I won't force you to do anything. But, please, at least come to my lab at the science center where the convention is being held. They have some hospital supplies there, and even though it would be better to go to an _actual_ hospital we can still get you cleaned up pretty good."

Harry seemed torn about what to do. His eyes watched Bruce solemnly as he thought about what to do. Then the boy closed his eyes and rested his head against the brick. Bruce would pay anything to know what the kid was thinking about, but he knew he would have his answer soon. Then Harry looked back at Bruce like he was judging the man one last time.

Then Harry nodded.

* * *

Harry didn't know why he was following a stranger across town. He was practically going against everything he taught himself. Why did he have to be so darn convincing? His instincts were shouting at him not to trust him, but his heart was telling him to follow his supposed savior. Harry felt uncertain between what to do, and Harry severely hoped he wasn't going to regret this decision. Bruce seemed nice enough, but Harry reminded himself not to be fooled. People could be kind one minute than turn on you the next. He had seen it way too many times. Yet, here he was, acting like an idiot. The seven year old was practically fuming at himself, but it was too late to change his mind now.

Bruce led him down the busy streets, and Harry realized that he had never been to this part of the city before. Subconsciously he moved closer to Bruce. Even if he didn't trust the man, he didn't want to get lost in such a unrecognizable part of town. Bruce smiled gently at the boy as they walked on, and Harry felt his heart leap with that smile. Harry hated the man for it.

_Don'tfeeldon'tfeeldon'tfeeldon'tfeel-_

Harry repeated that mantra to himself. It had become a habit by now. Each time something familiar to a feeling rose up in his chest, he would douse it almost immediately. His heart didn't have an opinion anymore. _Feelings hurt_, and it was a lesson he would always remember. The man stopped along the sidewalk and looked at the pharmacy across the street.

"I need to get some bandages before we reach the convention." Bruce said walking towards the pharmacy, but Harry stopped at the building's steps and shook his head. "You want to wait out here?" Bruce asked like he was reading Harry's mind, and Harry merely nodded. Bruce smiled softly and went inside the building and Harry paled at the man's intuition. How did this man know exactly what he wanted? It was frightening actually. Nobody seemed to understand him, yet this man did. He did say he was akin to him earlier, but to what extent? Could he be just like him? Could he be-

_Don't get too close, he can still be dangerous. _

The voice cut off his stream of thoughts.

_"I know that already." _Harry thought in reply to the voice. The voice seemed ticked off at his sudden cheek, but decided to let it go, fortunately enough. As Bruce shopped inside Harry allowed himself to think about his current situation as he leaned against the brick wall. He had basically run off with a stranger, a supposed doctor, and was now in a city he didn't know. Well crap, things were starting to look more and more sketchy the longer he thought about it.

What man would help heal him without charge? What was Bruce's agenda? He had to have one. Everyone had an agenda, even if they didn't know it. So why would a stranger want to take care of his injuries when Harry obviously couldn't repay him? Maybe he should run? Now would be the chance. Bruce wasn't out here, and it would be easy to lose himself among the crowds. But before he could act upon such a plan the pharmacy door opened up and Bruce held a small plastic bag containing a few items Harry didn't recognize.

"Hey, ready to go?" Bruce asked and Harry slowly nodded. The chance to run was gone, and once again they were moving across town. Harry observed the man as they walked without a single word. Danger seemed to radiate off the man's aura, but it didn't seem too menacing in the boy's eyes. For some reason it actually felt comforting. It was like he was able to be dangerous, but he chose not to. Harry felt reassured in his decision as the man seemed to send a small smile at the boy once more. Something about those smiles Bruce gave made Harry feel warm inside.

Wait feel?

_Don'tfeeldon'tfeeldon'tfeeldon'tfeel-_

Harry repeated the mantra inside his head, but this time it didn't douse the feelings he felt. Instead it seemed to encourage them to grow? What was happening to him? What was this man doing to him? Harry stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and clutched his head as the feeling of warmth spread through him.

NO! NO! STOP IT!

The boy's body shook violently as he tried to get his feelings in reign. Why- why after all this time? Why did he start losing his cool now? He didn't want to feel!

_Feelings hurt. _

"a..arr…har….Harry…Harry!" Bruce's voice slowly came to him and the man had crouched before him, eyes full of panic. His large hands grasped Harry's shoulders as the boy continued to shake. Why did the man look so panicked? Why would he be worried about him? Harry's eyes darted around frantically. He needed to escape! The feelings that crept into him were too much! It was like an overload, and Harry didn't know how to function with the new warmth spreading across his body.

_Don'tfeeldon'tfeeldon'tfeeldon't-_

Suddenly a pair of two strong arms wrapped around the boy's tiny frame, and Harry froze. B-Bruce was hugging him? Where did this come from? Gradually the boy's panic came to a halt and Harry closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of warmth. He didn't understand why Bruce was hugging him, or why Harry didn't seem to mind. What was this man doing to him? Why did he feel so…so…

_Safe_?

Bruce continued to hug Harry until the boy was completely still, and Harry flinched when the man pulled away. Suddenly, Harry missed the warmth from the hug. Bruce looked at him with worried eyes. Why was he worried again? Then Harry realized that he just had a panic attack for no apparent reason. Of course the man would wonder what was wrong with him! He just lost control when they had just been walking.

Harry flinched as he wondered if Bruce was going to leave him now. But the man just simply held the boy's shoulders as Harry seemed to rebuild his composure. Harry looked down embarrassed, but Bruce just titled Harry's head up forcing him to meet his eyes.

"It's okay Harry, you're safe with me. You're _safe_." Bruce gently whispered letting go of the boy. That one word made the warmth inside of him grow. _Safe_, when was the last time Harry had been safe? "We're almost there. Do you think you can make it until then?"

Harry mutely nodded as he tried to come to grips with the turmoil inside of him. Bruce gave him one of those small smiles, and Harry felt calmness spread over him. He was going to be _okay_. Harry didn't try to suppress the warmth any more. It didn't seem to want to stay down beside Bruce, and the boy had no idea how the man coaxed such an illicit response from him. Harry thought he had better control than that. Apparently not.

But at the same time, when was the last time Harry had to fight his emotions? It hadn't been since the night he changed and gave into the darkness. Even now Harry knew there was no light left for him, but maybe, just maybe, he could let some of these pressing emotions slide. He still didn't trust Bruce. Harry doubted he ever would. Why would he trust a complete stranger? Yet, at the same time, Bruce did make Harry feel safe, and that was an emotion Harry thought he would never feel again.

_You're a fool! A complete, utter fool. Don't feel! Feelings hurt-_

Harry hushed the voice inside his head and continued to follow Bruce down the street.

Of course, Harry didn't know that once he set foot into that lab his whole life would be changed. Or that Fate had a special plan for Death's master. He didn't know by following Bruce he made the most important decision in his life, and that by doing so he gave life and hope one more shot.

Harry could only keep his heart shut tight as he followed Bruce Banner into his lab, and hope for the best and expect the worst.

* * *

**Harry might seem to have changed a bit too quickly for Banner, but that's only because currently he's confused, and frankly he was beaten to a bloody pulp by Dudley (so he's probably not thinking straight.) Harry will show his darker tendencies next chapter after he's patched up and the shock wears down. ;) **

**Although I know this chapter sorta sucked, but HEY I tried writing this while running a fever, and well...you see how that worked out. **

**And remember reviews refuel my motivation. **


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